I Must Confess That I Feel Like a Monster
by Believe4Ever
Summary: The teacher's pleads and screams did nothing for me as my rage overtook me. M y vision saw only red and my anger bubbled through my body. I couldn't even feel my body as it attacked everything about me. It was just like before, when I had attacked my father's office. Except this time I wasn't asking for attention. I wanted disorder. I wanted turmoil.
1. Chapter 1

**This is just an Alternate Universe fan fiction of Death the Kid while I try to gain inspiration for my other stories. I thought up the idea while looking at fan art of evil Kid and listening to Monster by Skillet and Animal I Have Become by Three Days Grace. Enjoy and review please!**

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I was "corrupted" at a young age.

_I sat on the floor, none of my toys of any interest to me any longer. I stared at my wall, the pictures pinned to them all lopsided and crumpled. I didn't care. I liked it that way, in fact. All the chaos on that one wall. Most people think of it as 'unorganized' or 'ugly', but I think it looked beautiful. All that disorder and confusion thrown into one place without a single pattern. That was true beauty. It was in that way that I learned of the world._

I never knew my mother.

_My father had always told me how my mother had died shortly after I was born, from a horrible illness. He wouldn't speak of it much. Whenever I asked him why there weren't any Shinigami other than him and me, and when I'd ask him if mother was one as well, he'd just get a distant look—as much of a distant look as he could get with that mask he always wore. He'd just mutter a simple "No." and walk out of the room._

My father never had time for me; only the other "better" Shibusen students.

_"I can't play with you, Kid," my father sighed whenever I came up to him with a book I wanted him to read to me. "I have to check up on some of the new meisters that have come into the school. No, I don't want to read to you today! Just read to yourself and be a good boy, okay?" With that, he'd walk away, forgetting his son in the small room that I called my own._

Sometimes I would do anything, just to get his attention.

_"Kid!" my father screamed as he ran into the room. I had trashed his office, smashing everything about, throwing papers around, turning over chairs, cracking his mirrors . . . "You bad child! What in the world are you doing?!" His anger in his voice was refreshing, just so he could give me some kind of emotion, some kind of attention. "Go back home, you problematic child!" As he ushered me out of the room, I glanced back at the room which lay in disarray. And I smiled._

My acts got worse and worse. Eventually my father just ignored me.

_"Hello, Kid," my father muttered as he walked past my room. He didn't even glance inside. He didn't notice the blood that ran across the floor, or the fresh deep red that painted my walls. He didn't notice my usual suit torn to shreds and my arms dripping. He didn't notice the dark liquid that smeared in my hair, tainting my white stripes crimson. He didn't notice._

But eventually my father allowed me to go to Shibusen, as long as I stayed "good". So now there I was, walking the halls of my father's school. Alone.

_I felt chills run down my spine when I saw the perfect symmetry of the school as I walked up the steps. Students were murmuring among themselves, laughing and having a good time. I didn't care about them. What I cared about was the horrible orderly manner that this school was shaped. I hated it. I wanted it to be destroyed. To burn. To die. That was a Shinigami's passion, wasn't it?_

I met her.

_Maka Albarn. Daughter of Spirit Albarn, one of the Death Scythes. Partner is Soul Eater Evans. She was a bookworm who gave smiles to everyone and had a bit of an attitude. Dressed like a child. I had no interest in a girl such as her. She was simply a kiss-up. If she found out who I really was, who my father was, she'd stick around me for that reason only._

I met him.

_Black Star. Last of the Star Clan. Partner is Tsubaki Nakatsukasa. Assassin type of meister. Reckless. He was a loud boy who I could appreciate his hastiness but he was too risky to be thought of as a meister. He didn't fit the description of an assassin at all; not with his loudness and general outstanding soul wavelength. No, I'd avoid him._

I met them.

_Liz and Patti Thompson. Twin sister weapons who can turn into pistols. They wouldn't be bad to have as partners, but I had no interest in wielding a weapon. I didn't care if this was Shibusen, the school for meisters and weapons to work together. People would only take advantage of me. That's what people would always do in this corrupted world. That's what I had learned at a young age._

Soon I had snapped.

_"Stop this! Stop!" The teacher's pleads and screams did nothing for me as my rage overtook me. M y vision saw only red and my anger bubbled through my body. I couldn't even feel my body as it attacked everything about me. It was just like before, when I had attacked my father's office. Except this time I wasn't asking for attention. I wanted disorder. I wanted turmoil. "STOP IT!" I felt strong arms wrap around me. An inhuman sound escaped my lips as I struggled. I was simply lifted in the air and thrown to the ground. I felt something heavy land atop my chest and I couldn't move. I could barely breathe. I stared up to see the teacher, along with nearly all of the class, staring at me like I was a monster. Well, maybe I was._

I could no longer just stay quiet and invisible among my "peers".

_"That kid is a freak." "Do you know his name?" "I didn't even notice he was in class until he attacked Sid . . ." "You think he's evil?" "Does he even have a weapon?" "What a freak . . ." These murmurs and whispers bombarded me every time I walked through the halls or sat in class. My blood boiled and I felt like screaming at them. What right did they have to say things like that about them? I knew more about all of them than they had even bothered to know about me. They didn't have any right to think those things about me. They all just needed to die. Just go and die._

Some thought they could cure me. Thought they could "help" me.

_"Kid?" I looked up from my textbook to find Maka Albarn and her partner standing before me. She gave another one of her stupid smiles. I felt my hand clench my pencil. I wanted to rip that smile off of her face. "I'm Maka. We haven't really talked before. I was wondering if we could hang out some time. I was a little worried after that, uh . . . scene before."_

They all made me sick. They pretended to care. I wanted to break all of them.

_"I don't need any of them . . ." My voice came out as a hiss as I sat in my room. There were dark stains from times I splattered or painted my walls with blood. Dark patches ran across my carpet floor. Parts of my windows were broken. Every bit of fabric was ripped in my rom. "They don't understand me. How can they pretend to care? They all need to understand how I see the world . . . How unbelievably ugly all of this is!"_

I finally was able to show everyone who the "real" me was.

_"Don't you understand?!" My voice cracked as I shrieked louder than I thought was possible with my small body. I had always been small, but I was stronger than most people would believe. My fist made contact against one of the students' face, sending his head snapping backward and he collapsed onto the ground. Blood trickled from his nose, destroying the "beauty" that people considered of him. Yes, the disorder was starting to spread. That usual warm feeling spread inside of me, sweet as honey._

No one understood what I was trying to prove.

_My father soon appeared and ripped me away from the boy. The boy was bruised beaten and a complete mess. I couldn't finish, though. I couldn't take his life. I couldn't erase one more perfection from this obnoxious world. "Kid, stop this!" But I wouldn't. I would fight. I would get the world to understand how I felt._

My very soul was turning black.

_I stared into the mirror and saw my blank, glassy eyes, the deadness of my hair, the tatters of my clothes. I looked like someone who grew up on the streets. But no one would pay attention to me. I'd stay in my room. I'd scream. I'd writhe from the feelings trying to erupt from my chest. My father was away during this, all the time. All the time he'd avoid me. He was ashamed of me. He was ashamed of his child._

I broke down in front of my father.

_I stepped in front of my father. He barely glanced up at me. I gripped the blade harder. I needed to get his attention. I needed his attention. I needed someone to see the darkness inside of me. The blade crept over my skin as blood ran. Still my father didn't notice. Finally in my anger I slid it over my neck, tears pricking into my eyes. "Kid!" my father gasped as I fell to the floor. It took too much for him to finally notice me. To see this _animal _I have become._

I survived, but was kept under watch for fear I would do something like it again.

_I hadn't wanted to die. I wasn't trying to commit suicide. I only wanted attention. I wanted someone to break boundaries, to get to me. No one understood. Was it because no one could get past the fact that I had lashed out, that I had snapped, that I had been _me.

And that brings us to the present. I still sat in my room. I never turned on the lights. I never wanted to look at the horror of my room. Yet I could feel it. Smell it. I could feel the tatters of cloth. The metallic scent of blood never dried. Everything that had come with my meager life, with my madness.

The wall still held all the crumpled pictures. The tilted pictures. The mess and disorder on one wall. That was where it all began. Father had always said that the wall showed my world. The photos were my world, at that point. But I misunderstood. I thought he meant that the world was as much of a mess and a disorder as that wall. That I was in disarray, just like it. That's what I learned.

So I was "corrupted" at a young age.

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**I almost feel as though this could be continued, but I'm not sure if I should. What do you readers think? Is it worthy of a continuation? I'd also like to know what you all thought of the story itself. Thank you for reading and reviewing!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I was surprised that so many people enjoyed this story. I'm sorry it has taken me so long to get another chapter up; I had been focusing on other stories until I finally got around to this. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy it!**

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Months passed and finally I really got to show at least one person. At least one person would be able to understand.

_"Kid!" Maka gasped with horror as she watched me finish off the girl. That stupid girl. I'd hated her most. She had always called me nasty things when she thought I couldn't hear. How naïve of her. At least she was gone. "What are you doing?! How can you . . ." But my eyes were enough. I could tell that she understood, at least a little bit. She understood how I saw this world. My eyes glinted with a glassy look of joy and madness. These people needed to be taken out. It was a Shinigami's duty, no? "I . . . I'm going to tell Lord Death!"_

I wasn't allowed back in Shibusen.

_"Your horrible display has convinced me that you are not able to control yourself. I would like to assign you a weapon with a calming wavelength so you could try to get a hold on this madness inside of you after school every day." I didn't say anything as my father spoke. I thought of all the people, he'd understand the darkness that loomed inside of me. He was a Shinigami as well. Why wasn't he himself trying to help me, if he truly cared? No, he never had time for me. He never noticed anything about me either._

My father tried to assign me to a new weapon.

_"I'm Viola," she said. She was cheery. She had bright hair. Her eyes were blue. She always had that smile. I hated it. She was too perfect. Everything my father pushed onto me was _too perfect. _"I'd love it if we could become friends, Kid." Don't say my name. Don't say my name like you know me. I barely know you and you know nothing about me. You probably don't even know what I've done; why you were assigned to me._

Apparently Viola had a 'calming wavelength' which my father hoped would get control of my behavior.

_We tried soul resonance. My soul was large and empowering. It was dark and hateful. I heard her give a tiny squeak as my soul tried to consume hers; tried to turn her into what was right in this world. Madness. Evil. Insanity. Whatever you called it. She needed it. But soon her soul swelled and injected itself into _me _instead. I felt my heart stop, even for a moment._

These feelings that I felt were strange.

_Every time we resonated, this same feeling injected itself into my body. It brought back very faint memories. My first birthday cake. Back when my father would tell me he loved me every day. It was a fuzzy feeling that permeated throughout my body and tingled my fingertips. When we finally stopped resonating tears would be in my eyes and she would have to support me to stay standing._

I grew more and more used to the feeling.

_After a while I started to smile freely. Viola and I would often hang out together, playing chess or practicing battle strategies. My father was proud of my progress and said that I may even be admitted back into Shibusen if I proved myself to be in control. It lifted my heart to know that he had begun to approve of me and I worked even harder._

Finally I had decided to apologize.

_I hadn't really expected Maka Albarn to forgive me when I confronted her. If anything I expected her to kick me down and beat me for killing her friend. What was that girl's name? Kat? Kallie? Kim? I couldn't even remember. But I had gone and apologized anyway. She screamed at me about how she'd never forgive me. How I was evil. How I couldn't change. I stood there and took all of her words but didn't make eye contact. When she had finally finished I just gave a nod and walked away. Something deep inside of me turned and hasn't moved back._

Soon the day came where Viola died.

_Viola wasn't just my partner. She was someone else's partner back in Shibusen as well. The two of them had gone on a mission to kill some minor witch that had been messing with other Shibusen missions. They never came back. And they were proclaimed dead after a week. The funeral was small and I wasn't allowed to attend because I was still a monster. I was still something that didn't belong in society. So on the day of the funeral I sat in my dark room, staring at my wall of imperfection. My old behavior was arising and the pieces of me that had been twisted and pulled and jarred and forced into new positions fell back into their rightful places._

I ran away.

_My feet slapped the pavement as I bolted through the dark streets of Death City. My father wouldn't notice my disappearance. He would never notice anything about me. He never had time for me. He still had thought of me as a "good" child. But the truth? I feel like a monster. I didn't want anything to do with this city anymore. I would kill anyone in my way. I would maul them and wear their blood like a suit. I didn't want to deal with anything anymore. I wanted to burn everything and everyone along with it. So I did._

The fire glowed bright as I set house after house on fire.

_I heard the screams of people as they ran out, or the dying gasps of those that were trapped inside. Laughter came from deep within me; deep, dark, maniacal laughter that fit right in with my personality. I felt joy and pleasure and sheer _happiness _as I saw things crumble down to the ground and dissipate into the air along with the dark, suffocating smoke. When I had set enough things alight I took off towards the outskirts of town. I wanted to get out and just leave everything behind._

I didn't get far before they found me.

_I was nearing the edge of the city when I was surrounded by _them. _Maka Albarn, Soul Eater Evans, Black Star, Tsubaki Nakatsukasa, and Liz and Patti Thompson. I glared at them. "Get out of my way!" Whatever they said after that got distorted through my ears. I was breathing heavily as my anger and madness started to take me over. This world is horribly corrupted and full of evil. Everyone has a dark side to them. These people were no exception. I could see it. Their souls were twisted, even if they didn't realize it. Die. I wanted all of them to die. _

I had to fight them.

_Although I wasn't a weapon, as in I couldn't turn into some blade or gun, I could still turn into something that kills and destroys. And that's all a weapon really is, right? I went for the meisters every time. Maka Albarn kept trying to block my punches and scratching with her scythe, Soul, but I still got to rip out clumps of her hair or leave long scratches down her face. The Thompson twins kept firing soul wavelengths at me, but I just gave more giggles when they hit. The shots hurt me, of course, but in all the adrenaline and madness it ended up feeling more like tickles and tugs. I kicked and punched them both, watching as they hit the ground and moaned in agony. That other meister, Black Star, was a problem. He was fast. He was strong. He had a weapon that could turn into many different forms. He was better than me and that just made me angrier and angrier and utterly _furious! _It took ages for me to get a good kick to the base of his skull._

I finally got away.

_I managed to get around them, but not before much fighting. When I got out of Death City, my body was full of cuts, pouring blood from everywhere, and I felt like my arm was broken. My vision was blurred and I heard loud shrieking, loud ringing in my ears. But I didn't care. This world, all of it, was disgusting. I wanted to destroy all of it._

Then I met _her._

_"Hello dear . . ." My skin prickled. Witch. I'd recognize a witch anywhere. I looked to my left to see a witch dressed black walk up to me. Her dress was spiked and disorderly. She wore no makeup. Her very essence spoke madness. I should've been frightened. I should've been angry. I should've wanted to kill this woman; after all it was a witch that had killed Viola. Which is what makes this the strange, yet relieving part. I wasn't scared, or angry, or homicidal. I was calm. She calmed me. It was like Viola all over again, but being in her very presence gave me the warm buttery feeling. It wasn't happy memories that gave me this pleasure, though. _

Other memories.

_As I walked forward towards her, memories filled my mind. When I had killed that girl and watched Maka Albarn's horrified face. When I had slit my own throat. When I ran blood along my walls. The wall. _The _wall. All the disorder and madness in one final place, in one final _person.

"Hello dear," she whispered, stroking my cheek gently. I felt her long nails make thin cuts on my cheek and my grin only grew wider. "I am Arachne. Who are you?"

I suddenly didn't want my name anymore. I didn't want to be known as "Death the Kid: Shinigami-sama's son". I wanted to be someone different. Someone that everyone could fear.

That was when I recalled an old fable that my father had told me about once. It was so ancient and nobody believed it to be real anymore. It was about a person, no, an angel, that had tried to be perfect. Had tried to be everything his father had wanted him to be. But it wasn't who he truly was. He had fallen from grace and become something that others considered "awful" and "horrible" and "evil".

"Call me Lucifer," I murmured. "Call me the Fallen Angel."

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**Please review! I don't know if there will be one or two more chapters after this. Either way, reviews motivate me, so please do!**


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